


Drag My Heart from Heaven to the Floor

by one_day_sooner



Series: Love tattoo [2]
Category: Band AU - Fandom, Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-09
Updated: 2012-07-09
Packaged: 2017-11-09 12:47:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_day_sooner/pseuds/one_day_sooner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kaner is an over dramatic asshole and Johnny spends much time bewildered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drag My Heart from Heaven to the Floor

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

The first time Kaner had a ticket for him, Johnny showed up early, even by team standards. He waited for Will Call to open, then waited for the doors to open, eyeing the ticket incredulously. He'd been to hockey games before, sure, but never one where he could see the sweat on the players' skin. 

"This ticket is ridiculous, you know that right?" he texted, frowning at his phone like it would answer him for Kaner. 

He had to wait nearly five minutes for a reply, and when he got it, it was all Johnny could do to not snort. "Hi, baby. Can't wait to see you too." 

Johnny could only laugh and wait for the team to come out for warmups. 

******

Kaner was flying during the game. He got a perfect pass from Seabs about two minutes into the third and went high, stick side. Hiller never saw it coming, and as Kaner skated toward the bench for high fives, he caught Johnny's eye, cheering and high fiving the guy next to him. The UC was going wild, the Hawks were up and the Ducks were getting desperate. Johnny gave him a little smile and a wave, and Kaner responded by blowing him a kiss. Johnny blushed and laughed, turning to pretend to look behind him, but really just show off the "KANE 88" on the back of his tight t-shirt. Patrick stumbled on the ice and had to be helped up by a laughing Sharpy. 

Johnny had become somewhat of a feature at the games, third seat from the aisle, right behind the Hawks bench. Kaner had gotten him tickets for the rest of the season after their one month milestone, and Johnny responded by blowing Patrick right there on the couch and buying a Patrick Kane tee to wear to the next game. 

Kaner snuck off more often than he should have to catch the Townspeople at whatever crappy dive they were playing that night, always sending up a round on him if Frankie would sing "Johnny Got a Boom Boom", and she always would, just for him. 

******

Kaner woke up in the middle of the night, Johnny snuggled around him and snoring slightly into his ear. He had to piss so he wrenched himself away, padding into the bathroom. He wasn't sure how Sharpy and his stupid face led to his best season of all time (and a second Cup, but Patrick wouldn't brag, ok?) and being ridiculously happy with a guy he hadn't known when he hit Chicago this season, but he didn't care, not when Jon looked so peaceful in his sleep, when his name and number was plastered across Jon's back, when he woke up all messy hair and blinking eyes. 

He had to see it for himself, the shirts with his name on it, so he opened Johnny's closet and began poking around. He saw a red sleeve and smiled, thinking Johnny had gotten a jersey too.  He pulled it out and saw a familiar emblem, the Indian and his feathers, stoic and stern. When he grabbed the sleeve to look at the number, he frowned at what was on it. He turned the jersey around, not seeing anything but the 06, staring at him, saying everything and nothing all at once. 

"What the fuck, Kaner?" Johnny asked, the sheets pooled around his hips as he sat up in bed, blinking awake more as Patrick hit the lights, a red jersey in his shaking hands.  "Where did you...  Where did you find that?"

"You ASSHOLE!" Kaner yelled, throwing the jersey at him. "You had been DRAFTED and you didn't think to tell me? You could have played with me and you're okay with just...  Not?"

"Patrick you don't know what happened, why I'm not playing. Please don't start this." Johnny suddenly looked much younger, his hair falling into his eyes as he tried to hide from his boyfriend's anger. 

"No. No I'm not starting anything. I'm done, Johnny. You lied about something I care about. You didn't tell me Chicago wanted you."

"Patrick please, just let me explain..."

"NO, Jon. I loved two things before I met you, hockey and my family. You made it three." Patrick was tugging his jeans on and looking for his keys. "It's back down to two now, I guess."

Johnny stayed where he was, eyes wide like he had been slapped in the face as Patrick left him alone in his bed. He stared after the other man, his dark eyes sad for the first time in months. 

******

"Hey my loves," Frankie cooed, sitting in Johnny's lap like she usually did, her coffee sweet and light next to Jon's black cup. "Y'all ready to start this tour?" 

"Dying to," he muttered, hiding his face in her shoulder, smelling her sweet perfume that had always made him smile. He didn't see his bandmates exchange a look of concern, just felt Frankie lift her cup and take a sip. 

"We're hittin' the west coast this tour. There's a few festivals and car shows we're playin' in LA then some a little further north and a couple on our way back. Sound good?" she asked, her hand finding Jon's and holding on loosely. He squeezed it tightly as the other boys answered her. 

Three weeks had gone by without so much as a text. Three weeks, when they wouldn't go more than three hours without each other before. Johnny dropped himself head first into his playing, his technical skill picking up and his style growing smoother and cleaner. His showmanship flourished even though away from the stage his eyes were dead and his lips never parted in his wry grin anymore. Johnny never hung out after shows, instead working the merch table and signing autographs for fans on CDs and t-shirts. 

******

The guys and Frankie were set to ignore the way he acted since pressing him made Jon shut down further, and he never had a cross word for the band or the fans. It wasn't until Johnny nearly passed out from sheer exhaustion when they were loading out one night in Fresno that they got worried enough to talk. 

"I'm fine Davey. It's just been a long day, you know?" he told the guitarist, biting his lip softly as he sat on the edge of the stage. 

"Jon you're not fine," came the reply, Mike's voice soft and even and right next to Davey. Frankie sat next to him, pressed right up against his side. 

"Honey, you ain't you lately. I know he hurt ya but you gotta shake that off, babe."

"He's right though. I lied. I cared so much for him and never told him I'd been drafted.  Hockey is so important to him and I lied about it."

"Jon it took three years before ya told US.  Relationships aren't all spillin' yer guts and hopin' for the best yanno?" Davey put his hand on Jon's shoulder, Mike on the other side of Johnny with his arm across his back. "It's fuckin' things up to within an inch and goin' back for more 'cause they light you up like a firecracker."

"It's tough, Johnny. But you were too busy breakin' hearts with your bass. You never saw him like we three did. He would look at you like he was picturing the rest of his life and you were right there with him, givin' him hell for stayin' up before games and missin' you when you toured." 

"You gotta call him, Johnny. Chance brought you together. Don't wait for it to do that again."

"Chance can't fix this. Nothing can, guys."

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Feel Me" by Imelda May. There will be peace. Promise.


End file.
